


Chocolateboarding

by marie_deneuve



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005), Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Gen, Waterboarding, but it gets the explicit mark because, not technically smutty, seriously do not try any of this at home, unusual kink stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_deneuve/pseuds/marie_deneuve
Summary: Per your request, Willy Wonka waterboards you with chocolate. Fun times all around.
Relationships: Willy Wonka/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	Chocolateboarding

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Well...here we are? My first ever Wonka fic, finally posted to AO3.
> 
> This one goes out to the tumblr mutual who jokingly requested it, you have no one to blame but yourself. Bet you thought I wouldn't do it, huh? I really took this and ran with it like the gremlin I am. It’s rushed and unedited, so it’s probably not my best work ever, BUT it was great practice for characterizing my chocolate husband, so thanks for this idea! And thanks for making me put “waterboarding kink” into my browser history.
> 
> Please be advised, I am NOT an expert on correct technique. What I have written here is based on what I personally learned from being in the kink community for only about a month, mixed with a bit of online research. Don’t try this at home, guys. Seriously, it is incredibly dangerous, even if done properly.
> 
> (TW warning for graphic depiction of waterboarding ahead)

"There we go. Comfy?" Wonka asks brightly, giving you a firm pat on the head.

You are currently lying on your back on his sturdy, hand-crafted toffee table, several pillows piled underneath you for cushion.

"Very." You nod graciously, offering him an encouraging smile, which earns you a small peck on the nose. After making sure that your feet are properly elevated and your head is tilted back, he leaves your side, bustling about his spacious suite in preparation for what is to come.

The relationship between you and Mr. Willy Wonka is a peculiar and complex one, much like the man himself. He had asked from the beginning that you keep your...nameless affiliation with him a secret. You were fine with that, partly to respect his rather extreme sense of privacy, and partly to avoid dealing with the onslaught of paparazzi and candy-making spies, who would no doubt pounce if they caught wind of the company you kept.

A growing part of you is curious as to what the two of you really are, but you honestly can't figure it out - it's certainly not for lack of trying. Yet, each time you attempt to pose the dreaded "what are we?" question to him, he expertly deflects.

"You know how I hate mumbling!" he griped the first time you asked, despite you being positive that you had pronounced each word clearly and carefully.

Then it was, "Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm a little deaf in this ear." He had used the excuse once for both ears.

By now, he has stopped giving excuses and ignores the question altogether. He often does this by changing the subject and shooting you a toothy grin, accompanied by a glint in his violet eyes that screams "don't go there." The shadows his hat casts across his face, combined with the way he towers over you in his platform shoes, dissuade you from pressing him further.

As vexing as it can be, you cannot deny how exciting your life has become since you met Wonka. The factory brings a new adventure every day, the Oompa Loompas who work there enjoy having another person around, and Wonka's young protégé Charlie Bucket is the sweetest kid you've ever met. And so, you stay.

Also, it sure doesn't hurt that Wonka will always agree to trying things like this.

He passes by the door and checks that it's locked for the third time this evening. "The Oompa Loompas can pop up out of nowhere sometimes," he tells you. "And I'd never be able to explain this one in a million years."

"Oh, of course," you tease him, giggling. "Can't have anyone finding out what naughty things the boss gets up to in his spare time."

Your gaze is trained up at the ceiling, but he softly clears his throat, and you can practically hear him flushing. It's adorable, really - the two of you have been together (could you call it that?) for a few months now, and this sort of thing still flusters him to no end.

You hear rustling for a few seconds, when suddenly, he is standing right above you. He has shed his coat and gloves, and you take a moment to admire the gaudy paisley shirt underneath his black waistcoat.

And his hands. You've only seen them a handful of times (no pun intended). He normally refuses to take those gloves off, save for more intimate moments like this one. Yet, every time they appear, you find yourself transfixed by them, by the things they're able to create. One need only take in the wonders of the factory to understand the sheer power and artistry that those hands are capable of.

To think that he uses those same hands to lavish you.

You don't realize you've zoned out until you feel his knuckles rap gently against your skull. "Hello?" he sing-songs. "Are you still with me, starshine?"

You shake your head, clearing the fog. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Removing his hat, he hands it to you. "Hold this for me, okay?"

You do as you are told, and Wonka proceeds to lay a towel under your head. Next, he brandishes a solid black cloth, and your heartbeat quickens. It's starting to feel real now, and the nerves are setting in. Excitement eclipses anxiety, however, so you swallow them down easily.

"Before I put the cloth over your face," he begins, all traces of humor gone in a flash. "Keep holding on to my hat. If you need to take a break or stop, then just lift it up. Got it?"

You give him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "I got it!"

When the cloth goes over your face, you're immediately plunged into complete darkness. Next to your ear, Wonka leans down and picks something up. Something that sloshes ominously as he lifts it.

"Make sure to raise it high," he reminds you, the mischievous lilt of his voice much more evident now that you cannot see him. "Drowning you in chocolate wouldn't be very fun for either of us, would it? Although, what a way to go!"

You feel a cold hand stroke your arm lovingly. And without any hint of fanfare, it begins.

Your very first thought, in all honesty...it's not so bad. This is really what passes for torture?

Gooey, melted chocolate trickles down over the cloth, not quite leaking through just yet. A sweet aroma begins to waft around the room, heightened by your lack of sight. The hypnotic scent fills your nostrils...

No, wait, that's the chocolate itself.

Chocolate is now blocking your nasal passages, making it impossible to breathe through your nose. Dread begins to settle in your stomach, but you do your best to remain calm. _Just try to breathe through your mouth the best you can_ , you tell yourself.

That works for a total of two seconds. Then, before you know it, chocolate is rushing through your sinuses. In fact, it's everywhere. Your nose, your throat - God, it feels like it's already in your lungs.

You cough once, and when you attempt to inhale again, you narrowly avoid gagging as yet more chocolate blocks your respiration. You may have let out a shriek at that, but you aren't entirely sure.

Helplessly, you kick your feet a little, thanking every deity you can name that you opted not to be strapped down as well. You're dimly aware of a voice - Wonka's voice - but it's quite muffled, and you can't make out what he's saying.

Still, the hand holding Wonka's hat remains firmly down.

And that's when the second wave hits.

This time, the cloth on your face is already soaked through, and it reaches your airways instantaneously. Icy panic overtakes you, and you begin shuddering uncontrollably. You try to remind yourself over and over again that you're safe, you're not really drowning, it's all right.

None of it works. You need air now.

Your attempts to breathe start to pick up, fruitlessly. Your shuddering intensifies, and your legs flop wildly. Your mind is racing, and at the same time, it's completely shut down. Nothing registers but an intense burning in your throat, and a pounding in your head.

You think you're screaming, but you're not entirely sure.

_Air. Air. Air._

Without warning, the cloth is ripped away from your face. The light assaults your eyes, amplifying the raging headache. Upon closing your eyes, a dizzy spell sends you tumbling off the side of the table, dropping the hat, sputtering and coughing all the way.

You see Wonka wince as you hit the floor, and he crouches beside you. He helps you to wipe the remaining chocolate off your face as you gulp down lungfuls of air, eyes watering.

Your throat is on fire. You feel lightheaded. You're still shaking like a leaf. You don't think you could stand right now if you tried.

You feel so... _alive._

Once your face is clean, you look up. Wonka's expression is blurry, but his violet eyes bore into yours. Two will-o'-wisps luring you in, threatening to drown you all over again.

You shake your head, the haze dissipating little by little. "I didn't give you the signal..." you croak out, throat still burning. "Why did you stop?"

He blinks owlishly, smile betraying mild annoyance. "Because you were screaming loud enough to wake up the entire factory! You maniac!" He pauses, furrowing his brows. "...You didn't sound like you were enjoying it very much at all. I really meant it when I said I didn't want to drown you."

"Are you kidding me?" You guffaw. "That was _amazing_!"

You attempt to stand, only for your legs to give out. Gracefully, Wonka also stands, reaching out to steady you.

"Okay, silly, you're clearly spent. Let's get you to bed." He loops an arm around your waist and all but drags you across the room, unceremoniously tossing you onto the mattress.

As he shuffles out of his shoes, you start to protest. "But the mess-"

"I'm not worried about a couple of stained towels right now," Wonka interrupts. "It'll all come out in the wash." He snickers to himself as he slides in next to you and pulls the luxurious linen sheets over both of you.

"What's so funny?" you ask wearily.

"Usually, whenever we do things like this, I offer you a glass of water when we're finished. But right now, I bet that's the last thing you want!" He punctuates it with a short, breathless chortle.

You grimace at the thought of it, fighting off a wave of nausea. "You'd win that bet."

You snuggle up to him, and he lies back. He was so averse to cuddling in the beginning, so unused to it. But now, he is the one who initiates it, reaching over to wrap one arm languidly around your shoulders.

You can't help but notice that he's in an exceedingly good mood today - and unusually affectionate. You wonder if he's maybe starting to come around? Maybe he's actually willing to have the conversation, instead of brushing you off?

As if reading your mind, Wonka utters your name hesitantly, breaking the silence.

"I never did any of this before I met you. And I'm obviously not doing...this...with anyone else," he tells you, so clearly out of his element. He briefly turns and uncomfortably coughs into his fist before he tries again. "What I mean to say is, there's no hoard of chocolateboarding enthusiasts lining up outside the gates, as far as I'm aware. And even if there were, I certainly couldn't market to them directly without one trogglehumper of a PR crisis."

You chuckle under your breath. Wonka's off-color sense of humor aside, you are impressed that he picked up on your thoughts. One thing you've learned about Wonka is that he always, always knows more than he lets on.

In these rare, vulnerable moments, he offers you glimpses into that strange, brilliant mind of his. The walls come down for the night, only to be rebuilt in the wee hours while he sleeps. No doubt tomorrow morning he won't be as open to discussing your relationship status as he is right now.

That's fine, though, because you know him well enough by now to understand his meaning. He's taking baby steps, but at least he's moving in the right direction. You appreciate the fact that he's trying.

"That's a good point," you agree. "And who has the time to chocolateboard multiple people privately?"

"Or that much chocolate to waste?" Wonka adds, cringing.

"Right. I guess you'll just have to settle for me, then." You lean back so that you're nestled comfortably against his chest. "We can do it again sometime, right?"

"Again?" He sounds incredulous, but he finally reaches his other arm around you to embrace you fully. "You really are a nut," he muses affectionately. He absentmindedly rests his head against yours, his hair tickling your cheek.

You allow your eyes to flutter shut, beaming from ear to ear. "Well, nuts go great with chocolate, don't they?" you quip before dissolving into a soft yawn.

A long, meaningful pause.

"Yes, they do, my dear." One hand trails upward so that he can card his fingers soothingly through your hair. "They do."

It's not long before you drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos, and tell me your thoughts in the comments below!
> 
> P.S. I get up to plenty more Wonka-related shenanigans on my tumblr! Follow me at https://fudgemallows.tumblr.com/


End file.
